


just a breath between

by Eireanne_catches_rye



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Daemons, Gen, Havoc and Ed have a talk, Non Consensual Daemon Touching, and not liking it, ed being vulnerable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:00:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27373843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eireanne_catches_rye/pseuds/Eireanne_catches_rye
Summary: Ed isn’t sure what’s worse: being so late to settle or settling as a prey daemon.(FMA x HDM daemons fusion)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 43





	just a breath between

**Author's Note:**

> If you're in the USA on the day I'm posting this please get out and vote.
> 
> Literally always been a fan of daemon AUs where the hero doesn't have a crazy OP daemon, but something a little more mundane.
> 
> I've had this sitting in my folder for forever, I literally wrote almost all of it in one sitting the week after I started dating my incredible partner and haven't really had a whole lot of motivation to get back to it since. Had one of those years where I went from binging comfort food series to moving in with my partner and spending most of my time adapting into a new roll at work. Life's changed a lot in the past year and I hope as of tonight it only keeps getting better and I have more time to do things lie this that I love.
> 
> Disclaimer: The idea for Havoc's daemon came from another story I read right before I started writing this but I can't find it anywhere and I don't remember the name of the author-- if you're out there please dm me so I can give you proper kudos I laughed so hard and loved your story and I hope you didn't delete it because my darling you made me write again.

Ed isn’t sure what’s worse: being so late to settle or settling as a prey daemon.  
-

At first they wonder if maybe the Gate took more than just half of his limbs.  
Edward is fifteen, late to settle and he’s growing more and more aware of it with each passing day.  
The flexibility of the unsettled is a double edged sword, useful to their missions but becoming disconcerting to everyone around them as they move farther and farther from the point of the acceptable age to settle and deeper into... well, just being weird. 

It's just another nail in their weird coffin, separating them a little more from their peers. 

Winry is settled. But she was an early settler. Not worryingly early. But almost. Basil is a border collie with such a gentle bedside manner Ed almost can’t believe he’s her soul. He knows this first hand from when he’d awoken from surgery to find Protea tucked under his furry chin. 

Persimmon… Can’t settle. Al might be pushing the boundary of being an acceptable age to settle at but they know. Even when they were all kids, they all knew Al was going to be the first to settle. They knew in the same way any other kids from a rural backroads town would know, surrounded by soft countryside daemons with names taken from local plants.

Well. Okay so Edward had never seen a Protea plant before, only seen one illustration of them in one of the books in the library. His mother tells him his father’s daemon (and he doesn’t even remember her name, how pathetic is that) insisted on naming her that. 

(He can’t remember much about his father’s daemon. Just her golden fur and sheer size, a sleek regal lioness.)

(And her breath, warm on her face when she nuzzled into him.)

(He tries not to remember that too often.) 

(If his brain wants to bury the both of them, so be it.)

-

It doesn’t help the situation any that Protea shifts restlessly throughout the entire meeting. She’s been doing that more and more often. More and more erratically. 

“Focus, Fullmetal.” Mustang says so cooly that Ed’s blood boils, Coal’s tail swaying lazily from where she’s sprawled lazily on the rug beside his desk. It’s a façade, her ears are pricked at full attention, her eyes focused on him 

“I am focused.” Protea snaps back angrily, flickering to a hummingbird and rocketing into Mustang’s face, tiny wings a blur.

But Mustang is looking past her, his gaze cutting and there’s something there that makes Ed avert his gaze. Concern. 

He’d prefer anger any day to concern from his fucking CO, fucking Roy Mustang any goddamn day. He knows he and Al aren’t the norm, but they also aren’t alone.

They’re just also not in good company is all. 

Late settling can be symptomatic of many problems, and he knows the later it gets the worse it looks. Trauma will do wild things to the spirit, and Ed knows with his automail limbs and each passing day Protea doesn’t settle they raise another eyebrow. 

-

It’s after Nina dies.

Of course it’s fucking after Nina dies. After Nina is killed once, and then killed twice by two men. One who was supposed to protect her, and the other who kills her and then immediately tries to kill Ed himself.

Scar’s daemon is bearing down on them and whip quick she shifts from a lion to a far smaller form, unexpectedly smaller enough Scar’s daemon loses it’s grip and can’t pin her down as she kicks out with powerful hind legs and is whip fast away and down the alley.

It’s not until she’s cornered the second time, pinned down the second time, that she realizes she can’t change.

Mustang’s shot ringing through the air and it’s sweet reverberations are the only reason they aren’t dead.

He and Al are both in pieces (in more ways than one) and scattered around the now crowded street. 

Protea is a dusty white hare the size of a medium sized dog, and she’s big enough that when she’s curled against his chest she practically dwarfs him in comparison. Not a word passes between them.

But they know.

-

“You’ve settled then?” Al asks softly, much later his voice raspy as if sore from crying. Persimmon is a soft thing pressed into the weird mottled brown and white of Protea’s side. Persimmon, a perfect coat of gold against her.

It’s one of her favorite forms. She’s gentle and noble, exceptionally large and easily loved. She’s beautiful. The form suits them and they know it’s likely the form she’ll take when they can settle. When they settle. Sometimes Ed likes to picture them all in one of the huge wheat fields back home, at sunset the sun glinting off her fur and shining in Al’s eyes. They’ll have that one day soon. But not today.

“I guess.” Ed says, noncommittedly. Still staring at the wall blankly. He and Protea aren’t touching. Can’t look at each other. 

“…what’s it like?” Persimmon finally asks softly. 

Like being trapped.

He doesn’t say it out loud. Never would. But there’s no holding back secrets from your own soul. She flinches the second Al asks. They’re both quiet for a long time, and Persimmon shifts, resting her large golden doggy head on Protea’s entire body. 

He doesn’t have words for what it’s like. Or at least not words he wants to say out loud. It’s like having your darkest secrets exposed where anyone can just…. See them. There’s no hiding who he is anymore. No flexibility in his future. It’s finality. But comforting. 

“It’s like closure.” He mumbles. So low he’s not sure Al can hear. But their daemons do. 

Persimmon gently picks up her daemon sister with teeth so gentle it almost tickles. She stands and pads over to him and lays his soul in the gap between his stomach and the back of the couch before she climbs on top of them both, heaving great hot doggy breaths into his ear.

Touching other people’s daemons is taboo. But the Elric brothers are great at breaking taboo, practically one more chip on their gifted shoulders… so really what’s one more? And really Persimmon is touch starved and Al doesn’t have a body to feel the slightly unpleasant buzz of lightheaded pressure the contact causes like Ed does. Some people get married and go their entire lives never touching their spouse’s daemon. 

But Persimmon is a daemon without a body to comfort her.

Because of him.

He wraps his remaining arm over both their daemons and lets out a silent wail of misery, let’s himself cry enough for all four of them. 

-

It’s not til later that she breaks down. 

“I’m so sorry, Ed.” She sobs into his lap. “I can’t protect you like this, or Al, or Percy, or Winry, or—“

“Stop.” He whispers, curling around her. 

There’s no taking back settling. Well. There are probably ways, but they’ve been through enough. One pass through the gate was enough for all their lifetimes.

He buries his nose in her thick, ridiculously soft fur and breaths in deeply.

“I’m never going to reject you.” Her whiskers twitch and tickle his neck. But she can feel the truth in his words. You can’t lie to your own soul. “Losing you would be worse than losing all my limbs and my head.” He’s down one currently so he can confidently say that, pulling her in tight (if a little clumsily) and cocooning her with his body.

He sniffs slightly, “besides like we’d want to settle into the same genus as that bastard Mustang?” he grins.

“Besides it could be worse…”

“We could’ve been a horse.” She finishes with a laugh. 

“At least you’re not a horse.” He agreed seriously thinking of Havoc and his daemon, a genuinely baffling fit for the military all things considered. Prey daemons rarely went into the military, and even rarer got to ranking higher than Private at the very best. Havoc to the best of his knowledge was the only one he could think of who didn’t hold a desk job.

-

Tracking down Havoc and Mina isn’t hard. She’s one of the larger daemons at headquarters and a shade of white that’s almost buttery.

Also she’s a fucking horse.

It just isn’t that hard to spot a horse loitering outside the men’s restroom because sometimes it just isn’t worth the hassle of carefully maneuvering in and out for a twenty second piss.

“Oh heya, kiddo.” She greets him with a lazy head bobble, “your mechanic gotcha all fixed?”

“Yeah,” he nods flexing his automail arm unnecessarily. “Hey, I had a couple of—“ the door jerked open and Havoc jumped in surprise when he saw him,

“Oh, hey Ed,” He said with a slight tip of his head, “your mechanic gotcha all fixed?”

Ed and Protea shared a look, this was not going to happen to them. This was a stupid idea, Havoc wasn’t exactly a fountain of wisdom, they should just go.

“Yeah we were just passin’ through,” Mina’s ears pricked up suddenly and she nudged Havoc in a completely conspicuous manner, the same time Havoc’s eyes landed on Protea perched on his shoulder, his eyes going wide.

“Oh kid,” Havoc looked simultaneously concerned and deeply uncomfortable, “can’t say I saw that coming.” Mina pressed a hoof into his foot.

“What he means to say is congratulations.” She cut in, country manners taking hold. “Your winter coat looks like it’s coming in quite nice.” She said kindly to Protea, who couldn’t help puffing out her chest slightly in pride at the unexpected praise.

“Yeah,” Havoc offered, discomfort still tight in the corners of his eyes and smile. “You’re gonna be a lady killer with a daemon like that.” There was something left unspoken in the tense silence after.

“It’s okay we know it’s not good.” Protea offered plainly from his shoulder, before Ed could speak. 

“It’s not great.” Havoc said bluntly, “Not what you are. Just this…” his eyes roved around the empty halls… seemingly at loss of words. “Isn’t always the ideal place for certain…”

“Prey daemons 

“We noticed.” Riza’s falcon, Mustang’s panther, Hughes’ sleek otter, Breda’s Hyena, fuck even Fury’s tiny Micrathene was a fucking predator. Diminutive though she was. Known for hunting scorpions almost as large as them in the Cretian desert… Protea didn’t even have the benefit of size that Mina and Havoc had on the rest of them.

Havoc let out a long sigh through his nose and started walking away down the hall, “Come on. I could use some fresh air.”

They follow him in silence.

“What your daemon settles as has less to do with who you are and more to do with what people perceive you as when you’re in the military.” Havoc said lighting his cigarette, “and that’s not always a good thing… but it’s also not always a bad thing.”

“I just became the bottom of the food chain.” Protea deadpanned.

“Kid, you’ve always been the bottom of the food chain.” He scratched his brow. “This is just the latest neon sign letting everyone know.”

“Just because I’m not a hulking—“

“You’re a human weapon. You’re just as capable as most adults here. Even more so then some.” Mina whinnied, cutting through his budding tirade, “but you’re still a kid.”

“And?”

“And you’ve just painted an enormous target on your back.” Havoc sighed leaning against the railing.

“What’s one more?”

“Not everyone in here has good intentions when it comes to certain types of daemons.”

“It’s not as simple as just predator-prey dynamics.” Havoc wasn’t looking him in the eye now. “There are a lot of stereotypes people buy too much into.”

“Like being flakey and skittish.” Ed said dryly barely containing his frustration, “neither of us are exactly living up to that.”

Havoc looked pained, as if Ed was playing dumb. “Ed you can’t think of a single stereotype that might not work out in your favor?” He could.

“Plenty, we’re basically just above grass and worms, bottom of the food chain.” He frowned, he knew the statistics. Men don’t commonly settle as logomorths. They tended to be symbolic of family, fertility, and… sensuality. His head jerked up in alarm. Havoc wasn’t looking at him.

“You need to be careful.”

“It’s not like I make a habit of sleeping around.” He snapped.

“Never said you did.” Havoc was actively not looking at him now. “That’s your own business.”

“Then what’s the point of this.” 

“One of my sister’s has a jack rabbit daemon.” He blew out a long cloud of smoke. “Spent just about the whole of her teens chasing off guys who got a little too… persistent.”

“Don’t think I’ll be having the same problem.” He said hotly.

Havoc shrugged, “One would hope.”

Havoc finally met his eyes with a sharp grin, “Not one person in our town could ever out race the little shit.”

-

Havoc definitely had a point. 

At least about the speed thing.

They wouldn’t even be able to sneak into the stupid research facility in the first place if they’d settled any bigger. And even with her ability to shift as small or as big as she needs, Persimmon is still limited by the bounds of her bond with Al. So they’re on their own, ears pricked for even the rats that stick the corners lurking in the dark.

Which is why the creek of armor is even more alarming.

Ed knows it’s empty before it even lunges not for him but for Protea. And this is going to be telling isn’t it? This is their first fight being settled. No tricks tucked neatly up their sleeve to get them out of this. No claws to unsheathe or venom in their fangs.

The daemon by its side is incomplete. But Ed doesn’t know how he knows that. It’s not like looking into Persimmon’s eyes, seeing Al in their warmth. Sometimes when Persimmon moves too close, Ed can close his eyes and feel that glowing presence of his brother. The daemon by the foreign armor’s side is cold. It snarls and it has the eyes of a beast and her voice sends shivers up Ed’s spine that he can’t shake. 

It doesn’t even move like a real animal. It moves wrong. Like instead of being moved by some inner force, it’s a rigid taxidermied puppet jerking around on strings. It’s upsetting to see and increasingly distracting. Tickling at something in the deep lizard part of Ed’s brain that screams that he needs to get out.

By a hair he manages to win, the daemon trapped, the armor in pieces.

The daemon that lunges talons first at his own face is dreadfully unkempt, but her silence is deafening. It’s a near miss and a dirty trick.

When the homunculus kills the first brother the beast by his side disappears without a sound in a burst of dust.

The screech her sister daemon makes mid-dive has Ed rethinking the deadness of her eyes. When the Homunculus called Envy breaks the owl daemon’s wings in front of the remaining brother, the screams make him dizzy.

Also the blood loss.

(But mostly the screams.)

…Ed isn’t sure which one of them it is that dies first. Just that the screams break off simultaneously echoing around the cavernous room as the dust evaporates into the atmosphere.

His ears ring.

He’s in shock. And then he’s pissed. And terrified. But honestly the shock is like a blanket between him and the rest of what he’s feeling at the moment. 

Envy is rounding on him now, sauntering playfully towards him as it brushes the remains of non-existent Dust off its hands, tsking. “…figures the fun just can’t last.”

“Ah, the Fullmetal Pipsqueak and his Squeeky Toy.” Protea is still stunned, sensitive ears deafened unable to hear a word the homunculus is saying.

It’s squatting in front of him now, and Envy is cocking its head side to side evaluating him, “How long will this one last?” It asks and Protea is still too shell shocked to move out of the way as Envy’s hand darts out and grabs her.

His world goes white. He’s not sure if the screams are coming from her or his own throat, or how the hand on her is all over him.

And then he doesn’t know anything at all.

-

When he wakes, it’s with a sudden, jolting start and he doesn’t know how to breathe for a moment.

Protea is tucked under his hospital gown against his chest, her ears twitch but if anything she presses in deeper, wants to burrow inside his chest and never leave him ever. And Al is too quiet in the seat next to his bed.

Ed is loud enough for the both of them. 

Protea still won’t move away from him but her ears twitch every so often as he relays the story to the rest of the group, sometimes piping up with a more concise detail. They tell them everything. Or at least close enough to it. 

Persimmon is restless, flickering from an Albatross to a retriever back and forth, back and forth, backandforthbackandforth—

“Alphonse.” And it’s Hughes whose voice finally breaks the silence, “Why don’t you go get some fresh air for a moment?” Ed can feel Al’s momentary affront because what exactly is he supposed to do, go breathe? And Persimmon sits down stubbornly.

“We’re good.” Stiffness in her voice and tail.

It’s Daisy in the end who convinces Persimmon it’s okay. Until they’d met Hughes and Daisy they’d never actually seen an animal like her in person, “a small clawed otter.” He’d told them the first day, confused by her long almost polecat like body but thick webbed hands and tendency to stand on her hind legs with her little webbed hands free to also show them photos of their progeny. He wonders for a moment if Hughes also came from a stupid little backwaters town with stupid naming traditions. He’s never asked before.  
Persimmon looks so tense it hurts Ed’s muscles just to look at her (but then again, everything fucking hurts right now laying in the hospital bed), and for a second he thinks they won’t leave. And they won’t stop staring at him, both sets of eyes boring into him…

But then it’s as if Al’s armor is deflating, and his shoulders show their defeat, “C’mon.” He says and Persimmon shifts, fluttering to his shoulder and they leave.

When Al leaves Hughes rests his elbows on his knees and takes his glasses off to clean them. “What aren’t you telling us, Ed.”

It’s not a question.

“I told you everything.”

“Edward, we haven’t seen Protea since you’ve woken up.” He feels her go stiff against his belly, but doesn’t move. He can’t look Hughes in the eye.

The silence that stretches out is tense.

“He grabbed her.” Ed said finally, Hughes head drops. It’s bad. They all know it’s bad. You just didn’t do that. “He didn’t even…” 

“He didn’t even have a daemon.” Protea’s voice piped up through his hospital gown. “I don’t think that monster even understood what he was doing.”

Ed carefully, slowly lowered his hand on top of her through his shirt, and felt the tension slowly leak out of his soul.

“Hughes?” He hates how small his voice sounds. “Can you not tell anyone about this.”

“Ed—“

“Please.” He doesn’t want to imagine the looks on everyone’s faces when they find out he got bad touched by some monster. He keeps his eyes fixed on his lap were his  
fists are white knuckling the starchy sheets.

“For now.” Hughes sighs, and Ed’s shoulders relax slightly. “But Ed, you’ve gotta promise me that if you don’t talk to me about it you’ll talk to someone.”

“I promise.” 

-

It’s not until Winry is there fixing his arm and Al is sharing his fears and doubts of his realness that Ed begins to feel something like normal again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the read. As always please let me know what you think, writers live for comments and feedback! Hopefully I'll be able to keep up and write more of this little universe.
> 
> And don't forget to vote vote vote
> 
> Ed – Protea, a Snowshoe Hare  
> Al –Persimmon, unsettled until the very end as a Golden Retriever  
> Roy – “Coal”, uses English translation of Xingese name. It’s not a good things to stand out in the military, Puma can’t change her spots but she can at least learn to live with them.  
> Riza – Basquier, Peregrine Falcon  
> Winry - Basil, Border Collie  
> Jean – Mina, White horse  
> Hughes – Daisy, small claw otter


End file.
